


Past These County Lines

by lady_ragnell



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cameos, John Hughes References, M/M, Skipping School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 09:16:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin's never skipped school, and he's never had a real conversation with Arthur Pendragon. Both of those things are about to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past These County Lines

**Author's Note:**

> It is a truth universally acknowledged that every writer in fandom who likes writing AUs will eventually write a high school AU. This is mine.
> 
> (Characters are seniors in high school and 18.)
> 
> Written for [this prompt](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/30557.html?thread=29709149#t29709149) at kinkme_merlin, title from "Burn and Shine" by the Elms.

There’s a bright red truck pulled over on the side of the road on Merlin’s way to school one Tuesday, an old Chevy with a vanity plate reading DRAGON. He knows who it is—everyone at Camelot High knows Arthur Pendragon’s car—but he has no idea why it’s there. Merlin makes a point of taking the back way to school on the mornings when he walks, and the Pendragons live right on the main road.

It looks like he’s broken down, but Merlin doesn’t have jumper cables hidden in his backpack or whatever and Arthur’s probably already called a tow truck, so he doesn’t bother slowing down. It’s not like he and Arthur have exchanged a word since they got partnered up for tennis in freshman gym class anyway.

That’s why it’s a surprise when he hears the sound of a car door opening just after he passes the truck, and a second later Arthur’s voice. “Merlin! It’s Merlin, right?”

Which, of course it’s Merlin, it’s been Merlin since he moved to Albion in the fucking _seventh grade_ and started sharing Advanced English with Arthur, but he doesn’t bother saying that, just turns around and raises his eyebrows. “Yeah. Did you need to call someone? I figured you already would have unless your phone’s broken too or something.”

“Yeah, I …” Arthur rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I’m just parked here waiting till the roads clear out. So if you could not tell people that you saw me, that would be great.”

Merlin snorts. “Who would I tell?” Gwen, maybe, even if their schedules are so off this year they barely talk, but he doesn’t know anyone else who knows Arthur well enough to care. “Senior Skip Day isn’t for another month, you know, it’s too cold to go to the beach.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot? The teachers always figure Skip Day out and have tests that day, I figured I might as well have my own day.” Arthur shrugs. “Sort of on the list of things you should do before you graduate high school, right? Go to a Homecoming game, make out under the bleachers, get a detention, skip school …”

“I haven’t done any of that,” says Merlin, and turns around and starts walking again. “I won’t tell anyone, so don’t worry about it,” he calls over his shoulder.

There’s a pause, and then “Wait up!” says Arthur, and a second later he’s run up to walk alongside Merlin, a grin breaking out. “Want to do some of it?”

Merlin stares at him. “What?”

“Skip school with me. We can’t do anything about the Homecoming game—which, seriously, Merlin, you’ve got no school spirit at all—but we can take care of the skipping school and thus the detention, at least.”

“Yeah, because I definitely want to give my mom a heart attack.”

“You’re the most straight-edged student at school, Merlin. I doubt you even had your name written on the board in kindergarten.” He did, actually, for talking over the teacher, and then he burst into tears because he thought he was going to get kicked out, but it’s probably in his best interests not to say that. “It’s just teenage rebellion, is all. Your mom can forgive one day. Haven’t you seen Ferris Bueller?”

“Hate to break it to you, but this isn’t a heartwarming teen flick, and we would be unlikely to do anything that awesome. Why the fuck do you care, anyway? You’re going to make me late to school.”

“Look, I just.” Arthur stops walking, and Merlin stops too, because Arthur sounds weirdly serious about it. “I know this isn’t Pretty in Pink or whatever, okay? I just … don’t want to go to school, and it’s always better to have someone else there, right? And I was just sort of sitting there wondering if I should give in and go after all, but then you showed up and I figured … I don’t know. I thought I would ask.”

Merlin really shouldn’t consider it. His mom will kill him when she finally gets the messages from school, his friends will never forget about it, he’ll ruin his good record, but … well, they aren’t doing anything important in any of his classes today, no quizzes or tests or papers due, and he’s already got his acceptance letter for the school he wants to go to, and it’s a gorgeous spring day, and … “Okay,” he says, before he can think about it.

“Wait, what?” Arthur breaks out into smiles again.

“Okay. Merlin and Arthur’s Day Off, let’s do it. We’ll have a joy ride and get chased by the Dean of Students.”

“You have seen it! Also, I think you mean Arthur and Merlin’s Day Off, it’s got more of a ring to it.” To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur slings an arm around his shoulders and starts leading him back to the truck. “I’m sorry I haven’t got a Ferrari for us to steal, though. Well, my dad does, but I wouldn’t have even made it out of the driveway with that, he’s protective of it.”

“Yeah, I met your dad at a theater bake sale one time, he was pretty terrifying.”

Arthur laughs. “Exactly.” They get back to the car and he lets Merlin go to go around to the passenger side and climb into the truck, tossing his backpack on the floor as he goes. “He’s going to be pissed off enough as it is, I didn’t need to add grand theft auto on top of that.” He starts the car. 7:48, says the clock radio, so Merlin would have been late anyway unless he ran. “So, we should probably sit around for a few more minutes, make sure the buses are all off the road and the parents aren’t there to report on us or something.”

Merlin leans back against the headrest. The radio is playing some morning talk show, one of the ones that would be ear-grating if the volume were up louder. He will never understand why radio stations think they want to hear some DJ screaming about sports scores or concerts or the local bar in the morning. “Do you actually have a plan for the day? Or was your brilliant idea just to sit on the side of the road until school’s out?”

Arthur glares over at him. “I could still make you go.” Merlin doesn’t bother answering, just fiddles around with the radio dial until he finds a station playing music. “I thought I would go out for breakfast, there’s a diner a few towns over that I used to go to when I was a kid and I want to go back. And then, I don’t know, just drive. Maybe to the beach or the woods or something.”

“Bullshit,” Merlin says before he even thinks about it. Arthur is the one who crafted a plan to get the whole school recycling freshman year and has been overseeing it ever since, in between playing two sports and taking as many honors classes as he can test into. He’s got a plan for everything. “You’ve got some sort of plan. Breakfast and then what?”

“Breakfast, because my dad used to be friends with the owner before he died and I haven’t been back since even though the food’s just as good. And … there’s a lake cabin I used to go to, when I was a kid.” Arthur seems to have done a lot of things when he was a kid that he doesn’t do now, but Merlin bites that comment down before it can come out. “I thought I would drive out there, buy some lunch for a picnic, hang out, whatever.”

Probably there’s more to it than that, but it’s not like Merlin has any right to ask questions. “Sure, okay. Let’s do that, then, unless the lake is really private or something, in which case the beach or whatever is fine.”

“No, it’s … yeah. Yeah, we can stick with my original plan.” Arthur glances at the clock and turns the key again, engine turning over and coming to life. “If I take the back way out of town we should get away clean. Last chance to back out, Merlin. You in?”

Freya’s going to worry. His mom is going to freak out, although if he’s lucky he’ll get home before she gets back from the hospital. “I’m in. Let’s go.”

*

The diner is over in Mercia, a little building like a restaurant out of the movies, painted pastel yellow with a lit-up fluorescent sign in the window proclaiming that Godwin’s is open. “I’ve only got, like, five dollars,” Merlin warns as they get out of the car. “You kidnap me, you pay for the food.”

Arthur laughs, some of the tension falling out of his shoulders. “Sounds fair. Come on, I didn’t eat before I left, I’m starving.”

Inside, it’s just as much of a movie stereotype, checkered floor and booths and barstools and all, a couple old men at a booth in the corner arguing over their coffee and two waitresses in yellow dresses chatting at the counter. The brunette is wearing heels and seems to be scribbling something on her order pad, and the blonde is wearing sneakers and turns out to be the one who comes over to greet them when they walk in. “Welcome to Godwin’s, sit yourselves down.” She squints at them. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“We don’t have class until this afternoon,” Arthur lies flagrantly, and takes them over to a booth with a good view out the window. “Biology lab got cancelled this morning, so we thought we’d go out for breakfast.”

“Good for you, coming up with a good lie beforehand,” says the waitress cheerfully, and sits them down and hands them menus while Arthur splutters and Merlin lets out a half-hysterical burst of laughter. “What do you want to drink?”

“Coffee,” says Arthur immediately, face still red.

Merlin manages to contain his amusement when Arthur kicks him under the table. “Orange juice for me, thanks.”

“Great, I’ll be back in just a minute with those. Well, someone will, it’s not like we’re hopping right this second.” She wanders off again, leaving them to stare at each other and their menus.

It’s one thing, Merlin figures, to decide on a whim to skip school with the soccer captain who he’s never actually spoken to before, and a completely different one to actually make breakfast conversation with him. He eventually points at the menu in desperation. “So what are you thinking?”

“French toast, sausage, an egg over easy. That’s what I always got when I used to come here and I may as well stick with tradition.”

Merlin stares down at the menu. Waffles, French toast, pancakes, all of those options with fruit, more ways to do eggs than he’s sure actually exist. “I’ll probably do strawberry pancakes, it’s been a while since I had anything but cereal for breakfast.”

“Cool. I don’t think I’ve ever had the pancakes here.”

They sit in silence horrible and awkward enough that Merlin starts seriously considering turning himself in to his mom’s justice until the waitress returns with their drinks on a tray, wobbling a bit as she goes and nearly spilling Merlin’s orange juice. “First date, boys? Don’t worry, I know how that goes.”

“Oh, God,” says Merlin while Arthur drops an unopened packet of sugar in his coffee mug. “He’s not—we’re not—”

“My mistake,” she interrupts, thankfully, and pulls out an order pad and hunts for a pencil for a second before pulling it out from behind her ear. “What can I get for you?” Merlin blurts out his order before she can say anything else embarrassing, and Arthur does the same once he’s finished rescuing his coffee. “Right, I’ll be back soon with those,” she says, takes their menus, and wanders back into the kitchen shouting “Look alive, Gwaine, we’ve got customers who want more than coffee!” The brunette waitress looks up from whatever she’s doing long enough to give the kitchen door a long-suffering look.

Merlin’s phone goes off with a text before he has to make more awkward attempts at conversation, and he makes an apologetic face at Arthur before checking the screen. It’s from Freya, which is better than if it were from his mom. _r u okay?_

_seem to have been kidnapped by a John Hughes movie_ , he replies, since he might as well.

She’s got study hall first period, so she sends him an answer pretty quickly. _which one?_

_depressing Ferris Bueller with a likely Breakfast Club sequel._

“Boyfriend?” Arthur asks, and Merlin starts. “I mean, is that who you’re texting?”

“No, just a friend. My friend Freya. She edits the school paper.” Merlin blinks at him. “Um, no boyfriend. I didn’t think you knew. That I’m gay, I mean.” His phone buzzes again. “Sorry, I’m being rude, just let me get rid of her.” _I bet you think you’re Bender_ , the text says. _no, but am eating breakfast with Claire. Will tell you all 2morrow, have to go now_ , he sends back, and looks up again.

Arthur’s blowing on his coffee, not looking at him. “Of course I knew you’re gay, Merlin. I dated Gwen for a while, remember? She mentioned you when she talked about the GSA.”

“Oh.” Merlin decides it’s probably an asshole move to blurt out that he’s used to the jocks being tolerant but sort of avoiding him nonetheless, because Arthur’s being nice and he doesn’t really want to get stranded in a diner in the middle of nowhere and have to call his mom. “Didn’t realize Gwen talked about me, I guess. We’ve been neighbors for ages.”

“Since you moved here,” Arthur agrees, and that’s … odd, but Merlin decides it’s in his best interests not to think too hard about it, and Arthur seems willing to let the subject go. “Gwen’s great. She’s going to take Dartmouth by storm. You’re going to MIT, right? That’s what it says in the college map in guidance, anyway.”

That’s also odd, because why the fuck would Arthur care where Merlin is going to school, but it’s not like he hasn’t waited around staring at the college map while waiting for an appointment with call-me-Nimueh, so he nods. “Yes, got the acceptance a few weeks ago. Physics. I never really grew out of wanting to be an astronaut.” He winces, because seriously, that was a really stupid thing to say. “How about you? I don’t think you’re up on the map yet.”

Arthur smiles in a weird, cat-that-got-the-canary sort of way. “Harvard, I hope. Got the acceptance letter, but I’m still trying to talk my dad into it.”

Merlin stares. “Wait, you have to talk your dad into Harvard? Where does he _want_ you to go, Hogwarts or something?”

“One of the places that want me for soccer. Thinks I should be a professional, says I can always get a degree in something later.” Arthur grimaces. “I’m just hoping he won’t disown me or something when he figures out—that I don’t want to. I mean, I’ve been telling him, but my dad can be pretty stubborn.”

“Breakfast,” the waitress sings out before Merlin can ask what the hell kind of parent would rather have his son playing soccer than going to _Harvard_ , and slides their plates down in front of them, along with a little pitcher of syrup and a refill for Arthur’s coffee. “You two enjoy, call one of us over if you want anything else or a refill on your drinks.”

Arthur squints at her nametag. “Sure thing, Ellie,” he says after a second, and she ruffles his hair and grins before wandering back over to the old men in the corner, who are calling for more coffee. “I think she’s the old owner’s daughter,” Arthur whispers, and Merlin restrains himself from looking over his shoulder like that information changes what she looks like. “And I think she babysat me a time or two. I’m really hoping she doesn’t recognize me. Really glad I brought cash instead of my debit card.”

Merlin shrugs. “It doesn’t sound like she would turn you in.” His phone buzzes again. “Christ, seriously? Sorry, let me make sure it’s not my mom and then I’ll put it on silent.”

“You don’t have to. You’re under no obligation, we aren’t in a movie theater.” Arthur’s stabbing unhappily at his egg, though, so Merlin ignores it in favor of glancing at his latest text from Freya: _omfg ARE YOU THE REASON EVERYONE IS WONDERING WHERE PENDRAGON IS_. He grins. “Not your mom, then?”

“People at school are talking, apparently.” Merlin turns his phone to silent. “The school can’t make it through first period without you.”

“Shut up and eat your breakfast, that is not true,” says Arthur sternly, but there’s a grin pulling at his mouth.

“Why _didn’t_ you bring any of your friends?” Merlin inquires, curious now that breakfast is clearing his brain a bit of his morning fog. “I mean, I could get it if it was some sort of private thing, with your secret lake house, but then you brought me along.”

Arthur fidgets with his fork, takes a few bites of French toast before he answers. “They’re great, but I don’t think any of them would get it. Maybe Morgana, but I’ve got plenty of reasons for not wanting her along today.”

“Didn’t think they would get wanting to skip school? Sorry to break it to you, but the whole senior class is in the throes of senioritis right now, they would love to be out here.” _Why did you think I would understand?_ he doesn’t ask.

“Never mind. I don’t even know myself. Come on, hurry up eating, we’ve got to get going.”

That’s not all, but it’s not like Merlin has any right to ask questions, so he eats his pancakes and tells Ellie they’re delicious when she stops by to top up his orange juice and watches the waitresses flirt with the cook and the old men in the corner in between chatting about whatever it is the brunette waitress is doing. When they finish, Arthur slaps some money down on the table and grabs Merlin’s arm to urge him out of the diner, waving as they go.

*

“Pick some music,” Arthur says five minutes into the drive. “There isn’t good radio reception at the cabin, if I remember correctly, so you should pick a CD.” Merlin picks the first blank one he can find and sticks it in, grins when Arthur starts blushing, the Supremes blaring out of the speakers. “Shut up, Morgana gave me the mix. She calls it my ‘cheer up, emo kid’ one, if that tells you anything. You can pick something else.”

Merlin hums along to “I Hear A Symphony” instead and doesn’t even laugh when the next track is a Glee cover. “She must have thought you were _really_ depressed,” he offers after that one is followed by Kelly Clarkson.

“Oh, shut up,” Arthur says, but he’s laughing, and he starts singing along when the chorus comes around.

They drive for about an hour, until Merlin has no clue where they are, out into what feels like the middle of the woods, and then a little farther than that, until they hit a town way smaller than Albion that seems to consist of a little store with a few gas pumps out front and a post office. Arthur stops at the store.

“What are we doing?” Merlin asks when Arthur gets out of the car and gestures for him to do the same.

“Stopping for snacks. Like I said, I haven’t been to the cabin since I was a kid, we don’t keep it stocked with food or anything.” The store is tiny and the guy behind the counter is built like a tank. He gives them a suspicious look and Merlin’s momentarily afraid that he’ll call someone, but when Arthur drags him over to pick a prepackaged sandwich and a few kinds of chips, he stops paying attention to them.

It doesn’t take long to get stocked up, and Arthur leaves Merlin with the groceries and the money so he can go out and pump a few gallons of gas. The man at the counter gives him a suspicious look again, but he takes the money and tells him to have a good day before he goes, so Merlin isn’t too worried. He sneaks a peek at his phone again—texts from Freya and now Gwen, but still nothing from his mom, which is good and bad in equal measure.

“Come on,” Arthur shouts from outside, right on cue, and Merlin shoves his phone back in his pocket and goes, bag of groceries dangling from his hand.

It’s a fifteen-minute drive from there, on increasingly winding and rough roads, until Arthur turns them onto a camp road and goes down to the very end of it to back into a driveway right next to a house that looks over the lake. Which lake, Merlin isn’t exactly sure, since he’s embarrassingly lost, but it’s a gorgeous view, and the house looks nice too, if a little weather-beaten. “It’s nice,” he offers.

“It was my mom’s,” says Arthur, killing the engine and throwing them into silence. “Well, her family’s, but they gave it to her when she got married, and she left it to me when she died. Dad stopped taking us here, but I wouldn’t let him sell it, so he just stopped doing any maintenance. But.” He opens his car door and Merlin scrambles to follow suit, almost forgetting to unbuckle as he goes. “I’m eighteen now, and I’ve got some money, so I can have it fixed up to come back to on college breaks.”

That … definitely explains why Arthur would want to come here alone. Merlin wanders onto the deck while Arthur fishes a key out of his wallet and starts wiggling it in the door. There are some rotting boards, he doesn’t dare lean on the railing, and the lawn between the cabin and the lake is covered in logs and debris and tree saplings, but the view is gorgeous and everything will be amazing once it’s cleaned up. “We should clean the yard up while we’re here,” he calls over his shoulder, only to find that Arthur’s gone inside without telling him. “Arthur?”

Whatever Arthur says in response is too quiet to hear, so Merlin goes in after him and winces as soon as he gets through the door. It smells musty, and some animals have obviously gotten in and made their nests out of whatever they could find—cushion stuffing, mostly, and some towels, so Arthur really wasn’t kidding when he said his dad was ignoring the place. “Shit,” Arthur says from another room, and Merlin goes and finds him standing in a bedroom next to a ruined mattress, hand over his eyes. “ _Shit_.”

“Hey, you can fix it up.” Merlin pats his shoulder, awkward. He sort of wants to hug him, but they didn’t even nod at each other in the halls before this morning. “We’ll clean up some while we’re here, right?”

“Great, I’m sure this is your plan for the skip day I kidnapped you for, menial labor.” Arthur laughs, but it’s horrible and Merlin really does hug him, just for a second before Arthur has to pull away and shift like he’s trying to figure out a way to reassert his masculinity. “We can go somewhere else. I think there’s a public park around the lake a ways, maybe with a playground.”

“Right,” says Merlin, and puts his hands on his hips to look around. “Okay. We’ve got some time before lunch. Let’s get the indoors cleaned out and see if we can figure out where the animals are getting in.”

For a second, it looks like Arthur is going to object again, but then he nods and grips Merlin’s arm. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do that.”

*

It doesn’t take as long to clean up the indoors as Merlin was afraid it would. They don’t vacuum or anything, but they get a few garbage bags full of debris and anything ruined and Arthur drives them over to the town dump while Merlin stores a few things better than they were stored before. They eat lunch on the deck, where they end up talking about movies and college and nothing at all important, and then they clean up some of the yard before they get lazy.

Arthur has the brilliant idea of piling some of the cushions and comforters from the house in the bed of his truck so they can rest in there and have a view of the lake without getting muddy from sitting on the ground, so somewhere around one thirty they end up in there, and Arthur checks the time on his phone before he falls back with a grin. “Did it,” he says with something like triumph.

“Did what?” Merlin asks, rearranging a comforter to his satisfaction and then sinking down beside him.

“Effectively fucked up my dad’s plan for my life.” Merlin props himself up on an elbow and stares. “I was supposed to have a meeting with a scout who wanted to sign me for the soccer team at Penn State at one. It was going to be my chance to ‘seal the deal,’ so I decided I just … wouldn’t go. If I don’t have another option, then he’ll _have_ to let me accept where I want.”

It takes a second for Merlin to be able to answer. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about the whole disowning thing.”

Arthur shrugs, grinning wider every second. “If he freaks out too much, I’ll remind him that my sister’s idea of teenage rebellion was fucking my uncle.”

Merlin chokes on air. “Morgana _what_?”

“Slept with my uncle. Don’t worry, he’s not _her_ uncle, she’s only my half-sister, remember? I thought dad was going to kill them both. Harvard shouldn’t be such a big deal after that.”

Obviously it’s old news to Arthur, but Merlin has to take a few seconds to get over the idea of Morgana sleeping with Arthur’s uncle. It’s not like he knows Morgana beyond an occasional hello since they both know Gwen, but still. “That is, if our chosen schools don’t withdraw their offers after today. I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“I told you earlier, it’s practically a requirement to skip school at least once in high school, and we’re both already accepted. We would have to do something pretty awful to get that withdrawn, and we’re model students.” Arthur nudges him. “And I’m glad you’re here, for what it’s worth. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d come here alone and it looked like this.”

“If I had to do the milestone, I’m glad it was with you,” Merlin admits, because he loves Freya and Gwen, they’re his best friends, but either of them would have spent the whole day freaking out about their parents or they would have an itinerary to stick to second by second, probably stolen from Ferris Bueller, and then they would get annoyed when a parade didn’t present itself for them.

“We should work on checking off the rest of your high school bucket list together. It can be our senior project.”

Merlin grins out at the lake. “What was the list again? Skip school, check. Detention, probably check. Homecoming game, impossible unless you have a time machine. Make out under the bleachers—”

“Can be arranged,” Arthur says quietly, and Merlin shifts over to say he’s the only out gay boy at the school as far as he knows, thanks, but he gets tripped up by the look on Arthur’s face, intent and a little nervous and nothing Merlin’s ever seen directed at him but something he _recognizes_. “That is, if you—oh, fuck it,” he says, and Merlin kisses him.

Arthur’s mouth is half-open from speaking, but he kisses back, lets Merlin press him back into the truck bed and their stupid little nest of pillows and blankets, lets him try out everything he couldn’t figure out the one time he and Freya tried to teach each other how to kiss. Arthur’s good, better in the sort of objective way that makes Merlin’s ears a little red with embarrassment, but he doesn’t tease when Merlin’s too sloppy, or comes in from the wrong angle, just smiles ever-so-slightly against his mouth and corrects him with a hand on his jaw or a nudge with his nose. They kiss until Merlin’s lips are _tingling_ , and then they kiss some more, and then Arthur teases his mouth open with his tongue and it gets _filthy_. Eventually Merlin lets Arthur push him over on his back so he can take over, and Arthur explores his mouth and his hands wander restlessly across Merlin’s chest, down to rest on his hips. Merlin pulls away from his mouth to breathe and gets distracted by the sharp line of his jaw, the way he arches his neck when Merlin draws a light line down it with his tongue, and then the way he _groans_ when Merlin impatiently pushes his hoodie out of the way to suck a bruise into his skin where it won’t be too obvious.

When they finally pull apart, Arthur’s mouth is swollen and red and from the way he brushes a thumb across Merlin’s lips he probably looks just as debauched. On top of that, Merlin’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, or at least he feels like it, but he doesn’t want to leave their comfortable spot, so he ignores it in favor of rubbing his nose against Arthur’s jaw to hide his smile. Somehow that leads to them honest-to-God _cuddling_ , Merlin’s head tucked under Arthur’s chin and their knees knocking together. “We should probably go,” Merlin mumbles eventually. “If I’m back in time for dinner my mom might unground me in time for prom, which is undoubtedly on your list of things to do.” Fuck, did he just ask Arthur to prom?

“Oh, definitely, we’ll have to take care of that.” And did Arthur just _say yes_? “But if you are grounded, you can also check off sneaking out the window to meet your—whoever.”

“My whoever?” Merlin asks, grinning and pulling away just far enough to meet Arthur’s eyes.

“Your … boyfriend, I guess? If you’d like, if this isn’t some crazy weird skip day thing, then yeah, boyfriend.”

“You aren’t out,” says Merlin, because it has to be said.

Arthur rolls away, and Merlin manages to struggle into a sitting position, wincing at the way his boxers drag over his dick. “I figure coming out when my dad’s pissed off about the soccer thing will get all the bad shit done with at once.”

“Okay,” says Merlin, even though it’s a really stupid thing to do, and Arthur turns to grin at him again, but he’s too distracted by the way Arthur’s jeans are tented out, and there’s no way they’re going to be able to drive all the way back to Albion like this. “We should … take care of ourselves,” says Merlin, and then covers his eyes because Arthur snaps to look at him so fast it must hurt his neck. “Not … together, I don’t think I’m up for that yet, but there’s a lot of woods, it’s not like anyone’s around.”

Without any warning, Arthur pins him back to the truck bed and kisses him again, hard and messy. “You stay here. I’ll go to the woods.”

“It’s your truck, you should stay here.”

Arthur laughs right in his ear. “Yeah, but if _you_ do, then I’ll get to imagine you jerking off in the back of my truck.”

“Point,” Merlin squeaks, and Arthur laughs again before he hops out of the back of the truck and disappears into the woods, making a point of being noisy and stepping on a bunch of twigs so Merlin knows he’s going out of sight. It takes a minute to get past _oh God, Arthur can hear me, this is so awkward_ to _oh God, Arthur can hear me, this is the fucking hottest thing that’s ever happened to me_ , and then Merlin fumbles his fly open and jerks off, an embarrassingly short time until he’s biting down on his arm and coming into his other hand. He stays there and breathes for a minute, shaky and overwhelmed, and then struggles to sit and keep from making a mess while he puts himself back together.

Arthur’s down at the lake when he looks out, washing his hands in the water since the water in the house isn’t turned on, and Merlin goes and joins him because there isn’t much else he can do unless he wants to sit in Arthur’s truck for an hour and a half with come all over his hand. They wash off side-by-side, both of them red-eared and not really looking at each other until Arthur bumps their shoulders together, and then they laugh and start back up towards the truck.

*

Merlin gets up the courage to look at his phone when they’re about halfway home, long after he and Arthur stop pretending they aren’t holding hands over the gearshift. The most recent call—the most recent three calls, actually—is from his mother, so he grits his teeth and calls her. She sighs down the line when she answers. “Are you in jail or the hospital?” she inquires conversationally when he can’t manage anything past an embarrassed “Hi, mom.”

“Um, no? Definitely no.”

She sighs again. “And next time will you _tell_ me when you decide to skip school and not leave me to call all of your friends until Freya finally tells me you’re fine, just having an adventure?”

He squirms. “Yes, mom.”

“Good.” He can tell she’s grinning when she continues. “We can discuss the terms of your imprisonment and just how much indentured servitude will sway them when you get home—you are on your way home, right?”

“Yes, mom. Sorry for worrying you. Love you.”

“Love you, drive safe, tell Arthur hello for me,” she replies, and hangs up on him before he can do more than squeak incoherently at the phone.

Arthur glances away from the road. “Everything okay?”

“My mom says hello. She has ways I know not of for this information, I don’t even know.” He makes a face. “She’ll probably want to have you over for dinner or something, if we do the boyfriend thing.”

“She sounds nice, I can’t see any reason not to. Things are going to be pretty uncomfortable around my place, after all.” Arthur’s grinning, though, so apparently his father’s wrath is worth Harvard. Privately, Merlin thinks Arthur’s dad is enough of an asshole that Harvard would definitely matter more, but it’s probably a little too soon to say that.

They’re quiet for most of the ride back, snacking on the chips they have left over for lunch and Merlin answering Freya’s series of increasingly hysterical texts and Gwen’s series of increasingly worried ones while Arthur hums along softly with the radio. Arthur puts the brakes on when they finally get back to Albion and the road they left from. “Why are we stopping?” Merlin asks blearily, halfway to dozing.

“Nothing, just. Feels like it’s been a really long time since I picked you up, is all.” Arthur pauses. “I was waiting for you, this morning.”

Merlin blinks at him, suddenly way more awake. “Wait, you were what?”

“I knew—Gwen talks about how you sometimes walk to school together along that route, and I drove by you a few times when I picked her up from school. And I just thought, I don’t know. That this was supposed to be my grand adventure and I wanted you there.”

“You never even _talked_ to me before this morning!” Merlin objects.

Arthur leans over, lightning quick, and kisses him, then straightens up and starts driving again, much slower. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”

And that … definitely gives Merlin some things to think about, after he’s home, but in the meantime he just manages to smile at Arthur and touch his arm, since he’s got both hands on the steering wheel for once. They don’t say anything else until they get to Merlin’s driveway, where Arthur sits and idles and Merlin doesn’t want to get out even though he can see his mom waiting in the doorway. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess? Good luck with your dad. I would give you my number so you could tell me how it goes but I’m pretty sure my mom is going to take away my phone the second I get through that door.”

“Thanks.” Arthur snorts. “And good luck to you too. I’ll … if I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you tomorrow. How about under the bleachers, at lunch? We’ll get a start on that list of yours.”

“Sounds good,” says Merlin, and scrambles out of the car, backpack in hand, as he sees his mother open the door to come out and fetch him. Once he’s out, he turns around and waves until he can’t see the truck anymore, and when he turns around, his mom is smiling and shaking her head.

*

The next morning when Merlin is walking to school, a red truck pulls over and stops right next to him. He isn’t surprised at all.


End file.
